The Thief
by simison
Summary: Dust Town, the lowest of the low live here, scavenging for scraps. It is either that or join the Carta, for few honest jobs are given to the Casteless. All resent it, only a few are given the opportunity for escape. One Brand might have found that chance.
1. Ch 1: Sister

_**The Thief**_

**Ch. 1: The Sister**

Orzammar. The capital of the Dwarven kingdom. Cultural center of all Dwarven-kind. The jewel of the underground, Faren once heard. All Faren Brosca ever saw were the slums. The dirtiest, poorest, and literally the lowest portion of the Dwarven metropolis. There was nothing shiny or even clean about where he lived. Down here there were only three ways to survive: beg from the few people who came down here with money, find work which usually meant the least honorable, disgusting, or dangerous jobs that were reserved for the Casteless or join the Carta, the criminal organization that had sunk their teeth into the slums. Few people visited the Orzammar slums, better known as Dust Town. And with so many Casteless, jobs were scarce. Which left the Carta.

_All because of one damned mark_, Faren noted glumly as he stood before Beraht, the dwarven leader of the Carta. And the mark. It was a small thing. In black, it was a squashed 'S' with hard angles. That was what marked him as Casteless. That single tattoo meant he had to struggle to survive, day-to-day. That was why he had to become a criminal to support himself and his sister. And that was why Beraht, the haughty criminal lord was now talking to him.

Beraht was tall, by Dwarven standards, and had dirt-brown hair, which included a fine beard that went down to the top of his chest. His moustache was equally long, coming halfway down his beard with both sides of it carefully braided. He had large, hooked nose that he stared down from two beady, little amber eyes. And as much as Faren wanted to fight him, he was wearing fine scale armor and carried a weapon. As talented as Faren was at fighting, he was simply too under-equipped to be a match.

Faren's own features were simpler, with black hair that covered the back of his head and had two thing braids that came down just in front of his ears. As hard as he tried, Faren could never grow such an impressive beard, his own facial hair forever stuck at a thin, fuzzy hair. His amber eyes watched Beraht carefully, sitting above a large, but thankfully not a hooked, nose. He was armored, but it was much lighter than Beraht's, reserved on a fighter that utilized speed. His arms were uncovered, except for forearms guards and shoulder pads. His armored tunic ended in what some would call a skirt. It gave his legs the needed mobility to dodge attacks, though he did wear shin guards as well. Two belt buckles crossed over his waist, while two more criss-crossed over his chest. All of it to allow him to carry as many small items as he pleased.

_If only I could find enough to pay my way out of this hellhole,_ Faren muttered to himself as he listened to his boss.

Beraht wore his typical smug frown as he looked at Faren's sister, Rica. Beraht was not happy at the moment. "I can't keep gambling on you forever, precious," He warned her in that deep, patronizing, slimy voice of his.

Rica glanced at the floor. "Please, Beraht. Can we not do this in front of my brother?" She quietly pleaded.

"Why not?" Beraht replied gruffly, looking at Faren. "He knows the slope of the land, don't you boy?"

Biting back what he really said, Faren bowed his nod and answered like a good little crony. "He's right. Whatever it takes to get out of this cesspool."

Beraht smirked as he addressed Rica. "Listen to the kid. He knows the deal you made. He lays low and does whatever jobs I don't want to risk anyone valuable on. In return, I put out coin so you can doll yourself up and get a bellyful of some nobleman's brat. Then you both go free. And I get to join the family and be called, "my lord," for the rest of the little prince's life."

That left a bitter taste in Faren's mouth, to imagine that Beraht would not only haunt him and his sister, but his future nephew as well. "We've kept our part of the deal."

"Well, unless I start seeing results, we're going to renegotiate," Beraht predicted. "I'm giving you another week, precious. If you haven't found a patron, you're back to sweeping the streets."

"But…I have," Rica nervously clarified as she stepped away from the conversation to look away as a faint blush appeared on her cheeks. "I have met someone. That is, I didn't want to promise, but he seemed interested."

"See, she's found someone. I told you we'd deliver," Faren pressed, hoping it would satisfy the crime lord and make him leave.

"It's nothing definite, but he… he said he wanted to see me again," Rica softly added.

"Excuse me if I don't start knitting booties," Beraht replied snidely. "Until I do, you're the one who's going to keep paying her debts with your service to the Carta."

"You have some more… errands for me to run?" Faren reluctantly asked.

"A few," Beraht affirmed. "Do a good job, and you might work your way up to footpad one of these days. Your buddy Leske's waiting outside. He knows what I'll need from you today. Don't even think about bungling this job. Your whole family's on loose sand with me right now. And I know you don't have anywhere else to turn," He finished victoriously, before he sauntered out of their little hovel.

After he was gone, Rica turned to her brother. "I'm sorry you had to see that." Faren turned to look at her. She was slightly taller than him, and in contrast to his dark hair was gifted with bright, red mane, which was neatly combed and pulled into two buns at the back of her head. Her green eyes gave her a distinguished look among dwarven women. She was dressed in the latest fashion, thanks to Beraht's funding. The outfit was two layers of skirts with a white long-sleeved top. Two long, fingerless gloves had a jewel in the center of the hand. A belt gripped her stomach, making her midsection smaller in order to make her hips and breasts look bigger. She was a beauty; there was no doubt about that. _If only we'd been born in a higher class._

"I can't stand the way he treats us," Faren muttered angrily.

"Just be careful about showing him," She soothingly advised. "You've been lucky so far; he thinks it's funny when you and Leske get vulgar. Some of the nobles I've met, they'd as soon have your head for speaking your mind. That's why I didn't tell you. Beraht's been warning me ever since two of his other girls found patrons at Lord Harrowmont's reception. They've been getting gifts already. Lord Rousten gave Elyse a surface-silk gown and she's not even pregnant. Beraht's getting impatient."

"Beraht expects too much from you," Faren grumbled.

"You know how desperate the nobles are for more children. They can barely field enough soldiers to hold the walls against the darkspawn. If I could… give one of them a son, the whole house would celebrate. And we'd all be raised up to noble caste to join the family." She sighed wearily. "It's what Beraht's betting on. That's why he paid for my clothes, my voice lessons. He wants to share the reward."

Faren didn't like the idea of his sister being used as a baby machine, but he remembered what she said earlier. "Did you say there was a noble who was interested?"

"Yes," Rica nodded, a small smile appearing on her face, which provoked a smaller, unsure one on his. "That is, I hope. He certainly seems… charming. He treats me like a real lady, not just someone to tumble and forget."

Now Faren was very curious about this mystery patron. "Who is he?"

"I-I don't want to say," Rica admitted as though mentioning his name would make him disappear. "In case I'm wrong. It just seems too mad to think of one of the most important men in Orzammar with… someone like me. Anyway, time is rusting, and I need to get dressed. These fashions will be the death of me – a hundred buttons on each sleeve!" She exclaimed before uttering another sigh. "And Leske's probably already outside waiting for you."

Leske, Faren's only friend, though at times, it seemed he was more of his unwanted partner on bad days. Not to mention he was a constant reminder of Faren's ties to the Carta. "I don't know why I can't join the army and fight darkspawn," He growled rhetorically.

"It's sheer folly," Rica agreed. "One more way the nobles protect their status. They say casteless soldiers are more danger to each other than to darkspawn… that it's an insult to the smiths to let us touch a fine-made weapon. Truly, they just don't wish to insult the Warrior Caste by showing that given the same opportunities, we could lead an army just as well."

Faren believed that too. He'd already proven himself a capable fighter on the streets. However, news was hard to find down in Dust Town. He glanced at Rica and wondered if she heard anything in her up Diamond Quarter excursions. "But haven't the darkspawn almost overrun the current troops?"

"Every year, more of the beasts come up from the Deep Roads. I've heard they've even been harrying the surface."

Faren frowned. "Is anyone doing anything about it?"

"Aye. They would even turn to humans for aid before us, it seems," Rica answered bitterly. "There's been talk of an alliance against the darkspawn, even that the Grey Wardens have stepped up. But we don't have time for this now. Leske must be waiting, and Beraht won't like it if I'm late for my appointment."

The name brought a sneer to Faren's face. "It's not fair that Beraht gets to push us around."

"Money gives him power. He's got family on the surface, which means he can smuggle up lyrium and smith crafts, and bring down silks, wines, and furs. And he played it smart. When he started expanding, he made sure it was only the casteless he shook down for protection, so the guardsmen didn't care."

Faren found himself wishing that he was the one with all of the power and wealth that Beraht possessed. "And now he has everything a dwarf could want."

Rica frowned at her brother. "I hope there's more you want in life than to be some copper-plated crime lord. You've still got the chance to get out of here. Dream big," She encouraged. "Be a Paragon! Don't stop at becoming another Beraht."

Faren scoffed, adorning his face with a wistful, rueful smile. "Someone like me could never actually be a Paragon."

"It wouldn't be the first time," Rica countered. "Gherlon the Blood-Risen was born casteless, you know, before he went to the surface. And he came back and won the throne! Many Paragons have humble origins. All that matters is that the Assembly recognizes their achievements. And once they get that vote, they found their own house, and are as noble as if the ancestors themselves had made it so."

"That would certainly surprise Mother," Faren wryly said, glancing toward the front, and only other room, in the hovel.

"Oh, don't pay attention to her," Rica admonished him. "She's just a bitter old drunk. She also said you'd never learn to walk or stop dumping in the bed. Make something of yourself just to spite her."

"Maybe I will at that," He said jokingly.

"Maybe you will," She replied sincerely."But until then, we can only serve as Beraht demands, and he won't like it if either of us is late."

"You're right," He reluctantly agreed. "Goodbye."

"Stay out of trouble. I'll see you tonight," She promised before she prepared for her appointment.

Faren nodded, "See you soon sister." He left the room, walking through the second room. His mother, Kalah sat at a table surrounded by empty bottles. She had been beautiful once. Rica shared her fine hair, but she had yellow eyes that were often unfocused thanks to the drunken stupor. Faren didn't even nod to her before he walked out of the house after grabbing his two daggers, placing them in the holds on his back.

Right outside his home, standing next to one of the few burning lamps in Dust Town was Leske. His best, that is his only friend, was waiting impatiently for him, leaning against the lamp's stone holder. His features matched Faren's, except his hair was arranged in a series of lines between black hair and baldness. Like Faren, he couldn't grow his facial hair out, but had blue eyes. And the other dwarf was about the same size as Faren. "About sodding time. I was starting to think I'd have to bust in and get an eyeful of that spicy sister of yours. Ga-row!" He declared sleazily.

Faren snorted. "Haven't I told you never to talk about my sister that way?"

"But no hot-blooded dwarf can help himself. Those perfect lips, just made to be screaming my name… you must have had a few naughty thoughts yourself, huh? What do you say?"

Faren clenched his fists for a moment. "Shut up about Rica, or you won't have a tongue left."

"You know I'm kidding," Leske replied, switching gears and tone to friendly and joking. "It's strictly hands-off with me and Rica. But much as I'd love to keep chatting, we'd better get down to business."

"Right. What's the story?"

"Boss says we're out for a search-and-discipline. One of his smugglers is holding out on him. Name's Oskias. Some surfacer. Beraht got word that he's been selling shipments topside that never make it to Beraht's ears down here. He wants us to find the rotter and see what goods he's holding back," Leske explained casually.

"Any idea where this Oskias is?"

"All he told me is 'Find him.' Duster's got some family from the Merchant Caste. He's probably staying near their quarters," Leske said with a shrug.

"What do we do with him if he has been holding out on Beraht?" _Hopefully, just a roughing,_ Faren hoped.

"Well, if he is skimming, we kill him, of course. I mean, Beraht doesn't let anyone swindle him and live. Bringing his head on a plate is completely optional, though."

Rica's plea for Faren to be better than Beraht was ringing in his mind. _Damn._ "Fine. But let's at least find out what he's done."

"Whatever lets you sleep at night, my friend."

The pair of thugs began walking toward Dust Town's only public exit, passing by smelly beggars, smirking prostitutes, and enough old, broken stone to fill their quarter of the cavern. Every now and then one of the city guards would walk past them on a patrol, a permanent sneer of disdain worn and pointed at every Duster. One grey-haired woman called out to him, pleading for a silver to give her boy some needed medicine. _A likely story_, Faren thought callously.

Their walk eventually pulled them out of Dust Town and into Orzammar proper. After climbing a stone set of stairs, they were in the Commons. From here, they could see the center of Orzammar's 'foundation', a lake of molten rock that was still hot and flowing. Nothing was built on it, but next to it. Orzammar was a spiral of buildings, with the Diamond Quarter and the King's residence at the literal top, winding its way down to the bottom, Dust Town. Shops were made on the edge of the circle toward the lake. The temporary ones anyway, that consisted only of a few tables and an overhead to place signs. The more permanent structures were built into the mountain proper along the mountain wall.

"What are you doing here, brand?" One of the guards at the top of the stairway sneered at Faren and Leske. Faren ignored him as he walked forward, nearing one of the lava fountains that was still very much active. The fountain was mirrored by another one that sat on the other side of an alehouse. Leske quickly suggested they try looking for Oskias in there. While some might think that only drink was on the Carta member's mind, Faren knew that the alehouse was a good destination to find information and people. If Oskias happened to be there, so much the better.

Faren lead the way into the Tapster's Tavern. Inside, Faren stopped on the edge of the raised entrance, looking down into the center of the huge room where the bar was on the right along with some tables and seats, before looking at the far side which was also a raised floor filled with the rest of the tavern's seating. "Do you see him?"

Leske stopped staring at the bartender and his wares to scan the room. "Nooo…don't thi-wait, that's him right there." He amended pointing his finger at one particular dwarf.

Faren nodded. "Let's get this over with then."

Oskias was sitting by himself at one of the tables with a single mug in front of him. Faren studied him as he came closer, noting his lighter hair color along with the lone faded moustache. A sword and shield were on his back, though he wore no armor.

Faren walked up to the table and took the other stone seat across from Oskias. "Hey, I was saving that seat!" Oskias protested.

"That's real thoughtful, Oskias. It's tiring work looking for you." Leske said as he stepped up to the merchant himself.

"H-how do you know my name?" Oskias murmured nervously.

"We're here to stop you from making a big mistake," Faren answered as he stared at him.

"I don't know what you're talking about. You probably have the wrong Oskias, see. I just got here this morning. I'm usually on the surface and—"

Leske cut him in a relieved, sarcastic tone. "So you're not the turncoat, two-faced swindling duster Beraht told us about?"

"I never did anything," Oskias quickly countered, his hands twitching on the table. "Beraht's got no reason to send you after me!"

"If you did nothing wrong, you've got nothing to fear, right?" Faren reasoned, keeping his demeanor pleasant.

"I just want to make sure nobody, uh, does anything too hasty," Oskias explained as he watched the two of them carefully.

"Of course not," Faren agreed. "This is just a friendly inspection."

"Making sure you didn't **accidentally** pocket any processed lyrium, you know," Leske helpfully added.

"Look, I-I always been loyal to Beraht. He's been good to my family; I-I know how much I owe him," Oskias replied.

"I believe you. But I just need to make sure," Faren pressed.

"Keep him still. I'm gonna search his bags," Leske said as he knelt down next to Oskias packs.

"W-wait! I do have some lyrium," Oskias admitted. "It's just ore. I-I made a side deal with one of the mining families. If it worked out, I was gonna bring Beraht his cut, I swear. I-I'd be crazy not to."

"Suicidal, one might say," Leske suggested seriously.

"How much ore did you take?" Faren inquired.

"Just a little," Oskias started. "Maybe twenty-five sovereigns worth—"

"Twenty-five sovereigns!?" Leske muttered, surprised by the answer yet keeping his voice low.

Although Faren kept his face neutral, inside his mind was reeling with images of gold coins that could buy anything he wanted. Just like Beraht.

"Most of that's with my buyers on the surface. I just picked up a few nuggets down here. If I were to… maybe give you a piece, that's a lot of coin. Could you, uh, forget to mention this to Beraht?" Oskias hopefully offered.

"I'm listening…" Faren assured him.

"I-I don't got any coin myself. I make that topside. But you can take the ore, sell it, maybe get enough to get out of this nest? What do you say?"

The words 'freedom' and 'gold' echoed in Faren's mind. "Give me all you have, and I'll pretend you weren't here," He roughly demanded of the merchant.

"All I have is the two nuggets," Oskias reluctantly explained. "But they're yours if you let me out of here."

"Are you breathing smoke?" Leske hissed at him. "Beraht'll kill you if he catches you with his lyrium!"

"Me?" Faren repeated 'confused'. "You think I wouldn't share with my best friend?"

Leske immediately turned back to friendly. "Well, that's a whole other story. We'd need to sell it before we go back to Beraht. And to someone who won't run to him. Tell you what—cut me in fifty and we'll go to Olinda. She's a merchant. She likes me and refuse to work with the old man."

"Deal."

"Then what happens to me?" Oskias asked unsure of what was now going on.

"I'm killing you," Faren quietly declared. "As far as Beraht knows. Got it?"

Oskias vigorously nodded his head. "Yes. Yes! I'll go back up to the surface right now. I'll move to Orlais, to Antiva! Thank you! You're as noble as you are strong! May the ancestors bless your steps!"


	2. Ch 2: Deal

**Ch. 2: Deal**

"There she is." Faren dryly noted that Olinda occupied the stand closest to the stairway to Dust Town. He leaned next to the fountain outside of the Tapster's Tavern and simply enjoyed the heat flowing out of the well. With Oskias long gone, the pair had exited the tavern. Now it was time to make some coin. "Let's go."

The two Carta members walked down the steps and over to the shopkeeper. As they stepped off the last of the steps, Leske paused. "Was that smart?" he whispered to Faren. "If Beraht finds out Oskias ran, he'll kill you. He'll kill me. He'll make you kill me, then yourself. Then he'll probably stew us and serve us to the poor."

"He'll never find out," Faren replied resolutely. _Not when I have this chance._

"That's what I like about you," Leske declared with a deprecating grin. "Pure blind optimism. We should sell this quick and report back before Beraht starts wondering what's taking so long. Un…unless you think we should give it all to Beraht."

Faren received a mental image of his precious coins disappearing. "We're keeping it all."

"Then we better go find Olinda. She used to give me crusts off her week's-end loaf when I was little. She's got a soft spot for me. And she hates Beraht. Woo, you should hear her go about how it's blackmail to pay protection money and the casteless deserve better."

_Sounds like my kind of woman,_ Faren noted with a nod. They resumed walking, both of them putting on easy smiles as they marched up to Olinda. The shopkeeper was surprisingly beautiful. _Then again, why would Leske be friends with anyone else? _Olinda's golden hair and pretty face undoubtedly had a positive effect on business.

She grinned at Leske as they walked up to her booth. "Leske! You old scamp, what're you doing here? Trying to charm me out of another set of ribbons for your girl?"

"Trying to talk you into being my girl, Olinda," Leske replied sweetly. "You know my heart's breaking for you."

"Don't you go saying that around my husband." Her focus switched to Faren. "Who's your friend?"

_Damn you, Leske. Never thought to mention your best friend before? Guess he was trying to come up with better pick-up lines. _Faren kept his pleasant smile on his face. "I'm Faren. Pleased to meet you."

"You're welcome to look around. I'll slide on the mark-up since you're Leske's friend, but I can't give anything away for free."

And just like that, Olinda was Faren's new favorite shopkeeper. "Actually, we've got some lyrium to sell you."

"Well…" she replied slowly and warily. "That's not what I was expecting to hear cross those lips. Where exactly would someone like you pick up lyrium?"

"Are you interested or not?" Faren asked politely.

"How much do you have?"

"Two nuggets," Faren answered.

Olinda paused as she weighed invisible numbers in her mind. "I can give you thirty silvers per nugget."

Leske balked. "Only thirty—"

"It's less than it's worth, I won't lie to you, but the market for it's topside and that won't be easy for me to reach. And I'll have to find a buyer who won't ask where it came from. For that, I can't afford more than thirty," she explained, taking them gently through all of the steps of business.

Faren's smile faded, but that was the only physical change he revealed. Inside he was seething, cursing Beraht, Oskias, and lyrium loudly in his mind. "Why's lyrium so valuable, anyway?" he muttered.

"Because we have it, and the folks topside need it. It's what their mages use to power their spells. And it's the only metal that'll let magic stick to a shield or sword. Now do you want the deal or not?"

Faren glanced at Leske and saw that he was thinking the same thing. _My head's not worth a few pieces of silver. _"Never mind. I don't think we'll sell."

Olinda nodded sympathetically. "Probably for the best. It's dangerous to start playing secrets with Beraht."

Faren quietly sighed. "Thank you for your business. I'll be sure to stop by next time."

"Take good care of yourselves now," Olinda said with a wave.

Leske grinned at her. "We will now." His grin dropped the moment they were a few paces away from her. "Sodding lyrium."

Faren snorted his agreement, and as they passed one ignorant bystander, his fingers deftly launched and was able to finger the man's purse. Once they were far enough away, Faren opened it.

"How much?"

"Twelve bronze pieces," Faren muttered before he looked for another target as they walked toward Beraht's place. It was already becoming difficult. As they walked up the stone path, the other dwarves began to veer away from them. All it took was one look at Faren's face, and that brand sent out a huge flag. The first hit happened to be trying to read and walk. Likewise the second one was equally distracted, some woman flirting with a man on the side of road. She never felt Faren reach out and snag a small item off of her, a belt hanging out of her sack.

"Guards," Leske whispered.

Faren sighed. _Of course. Have to keep an eye on the casteless vagabonds. _Faren didn't like to steal, but survival came before pride and honor…always. Beraht's shop wasn't too far from the tavern. When he wasn't assuming his role as a criminal mastermind, Beraht ran a legitimate store in the commons. And, after dodging one guard who spat in their path, they entered the decent-sized stone building. As he crossed through the door of patch-worked stone and metal, Faren tried to think of the various possibilities of this upcoming conversation.

Beraht wasn't alone today. Joining him in front of his counter was a slinky, armored woman named Jarvia. Beraht's latest mistress if Faren had to guess. Unlike Beraht, she bore the casteless brand. She was a hair shorter than Beraht, shared his hair color, but beat him when it came to number of braids, covering each corner of her head. Her grey eyes were twinkling with malicious mischievousness as she spoke.

"The king is old. His rule won't hold much longer," Faren heard Beraht say to her, not noticing their entrance just yet.

"Prince Bhelen seems far more sympathetic to our interests than Trian," Jarvia chimed in.

"Bhelen has some tastes of his own that he knows I can provide—We'll finish this later." Beraht said as he finally noticed their presence. "It's about time you two showed up. What happened with Oskias?"

"He's guilty. Here's the lyrium," Faren explained promptly, handing over the two pieces of the purple, glowing nuggets of rock.

"That's all? I guess the duster was smart enough to keep his main stash topside," Beraht guessed, a little disappointed. "And Oskias himself?"

"He, uh, won't be bothering you again," Faren muttered, cursing himself as his fear spiked for a moment, threatening to break his mask of neutrality.

"Absolutely. Dead as a plate of chops. Screaming for mercy, telling the ancestors to bless your name. Real, real dead," Leske nervously rattled off.

Beraht stroked his beard as he stared at his minions. "Very interesting, seeing how my cousin was at the Tapsters this afternoon. And he says he saw something change hands between you and Oskias and then the duster sodding stood up and walked out on his own two feet!" Beraht finished, nearly yelling at them. He brought his voice back down as he turned to Jarvia, asking calmly, "Does that sound like what I asked? Jarvia, what does that sound like to you?"

"Sounds like some jumped-up face-brands thought they could take a bribe and let him walk free," Jarvia answered coldly with a small smirk at the hapless dwarves. "That's just not right."

"The lady say it's not right," Beraht echoed mockingly. "You wouldn't disagree with a lady, would you?"

Faren rallied himself as he countered sincerely, "I'm not stupid enough to kill Oskias in public!" Technically, that was true.

"Right, I mean, no one's gonna say spit to you, Beraht, but we can't move that free. We needed to get Oskias somewhere private. We took him to the lava sinks behind the mines. You won't be seeing him again," Leske rapidly filled in. Faren had to handed it to his best friend. He was good at making up crap.

The crime boss took the story and thought on it. "Hmm. I don't like you making me look weak… but it's smart to try to keep the Sword Castes from asking questions." He nodded with a satisfied smile. "That's why I like you two. Now, I got something else for you. Make some use of your… unique skills."

"Anything you want, boss," Faren spoke like a good minion.

"The Warrior Caste is hosting a Proving today—all the best fighters, last man standing—you know the sort of thing. They're showing off for some Grey Warden who's looking for candidates to drag off to a life of eternal glory. Now, it's not often we get every name fighter in Orzammar lined up like that, and I have certain acquaintances who… take an interest in this sort of thing," Beraht explained.

Faren desperately wanted to ask about the Grey Wardens. Even in Dust Town, rumors spread of their nobility and their strength. They were the only group with humans that routinely aided Orzammar in the constant war of the Darkspawn. They took anyone: human, elf, dwarf. Faren always wondered if they would even take a casteless. But Beraht didn't care for the Grey Wardens and Faren wanted to keep any aggravation away from the mob boss, lest he think too much on Oskias. "You're taking bets on the fighters."

Beraht nodded smugly. "There's a lot of coin to be made when people get the fever up. Favored fighter's an officer named Mainar, veteran of four darkspawn campaigns. Everd's a long-shot. Just got back from a Deep Roads offensive. Some young buck who has all the ladies drooling. I've got a lot of money riding on him. Mine and other people's. I expect to see that eight-to-one pay off. Understand?"

"Aye, I do."

"The fight only gets announced to contestants themselves… to prevent illegal gambling. So first, you'll have to find Everd, see who he's fighting, and when. When the name Mainar comes up I want you to slip this drug into the bastard's water," Beraht said as he summoned a tiny stone vial into the palm of his hand. "It'll slow his reflexes, just enough to take the edge off, not enough to show. But it wears off quickly, so don't use it until just before his fight."

Faren nodded as he accepted the small vial. "All right. We'll go right now."

"You bet you will. Here's your pass to get on the grounds. The Proving starts as soon as the clock strikes. And when I say I have coin on this, I'm not talking about some pittance, like the value of your life," Beraht warned them, shoving a finger into each other their faces. "If I don't see Everd's name on the winner's sheet, you'd better make sure I never see you, or your sister, ever again."

Faren didn't need any more prompting. He and Leske gave a deep nod to Beraht before they exited the shop. Once outside, both of them exhaled a huge sigh of relief.

"I can't believe we got away with that," Leske muttered, half-astonished.

"Come on, we need to keep moving. Don't know how long we have before the Proving starts," Faren replied, marching forward.

At the center point of the Commons was a pathway that intersected the rounding stone walkway. At one end was the exit to Orzammar, the path to the surface. The other way, traveling over a bridge to the middle of the ginormous cavern, with a massive entrance that was adorned with a dwarf's regal head carved above the huge doorway was the entrance to the Proving grounds. The bridge was wide enough to allow eight dwarves to walk side-by-side. And in front of the entrance were three guards stationed there. As a casteless, Faren had never walked through those might double-doors…until today.

Even if he was coming here on an illegal mission, Faren could barely contain his excitement, his feet striking up a quick pace as they climbed the last stairway. Only when he saw a large amount of cases, shop equipment, and other various pieces of debris blocking the path leading into the rest of the Commons was he able to forget his excitement momentarily. Apparently, the shopkeeper in charge of it had been ordered to vacate the other half of the Commons along with many others, because the city was going to scrub clean the marble floors. It was to honor the commission of the newest commander, a member of the House Aeducan, the city's royal family.

"I heard about her," Leske said as they walked onto the bridge. "She's apparently a real beauty too."

Faren rolled his eyes. "All that just to clean up the city for one princess. What a hassle."

"Hey, if you saw her, I'm sure you'd be glad to clean up all of Dust Town just for one hot, sweaty night in her bed," Leske countered with a sleazy grin.

"Come on, let's get back to work," Faren replied as they strove up to the guard in charge of the entrance, his heart beating faster from excitement.


	3. Ch 3: Warden

**Ch. 3: The Warden**

****A/N: You can find Aellerain's story, The Mage, in my profile.**  
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Aellerain Surana never thought a dwarven underground metropolis would remind her of the Tower. But as she stood in the center of the huge room with Duncan standing tall beside her, she felt a twinge of reminiscence. It was the stone, she decided. She hadn't seen this many stone structures since she left the Tower. But there were differences. Simply put, dwarven architecture was blocky, all hard, right angles, squares and rectangles and such. The Tower used as much curves and smooth lines as it could, points and angles were enemies. And then there was the ceiling. Aellie didn't know how but above her head, huge boulders were wedged together with seemingly nothing holding them together. Plus, since this was a dwarven city, the ceiling was much lower. The elf much preferred the higher, boulder-free ceiling of the Tower.

_Still, neither have windows, _she mused as she excitedly tried to commit everything to memory. Days had passed since Duncan rescued her from the Tower and Greagoir. The first day was spent keeping to herself, sneaking off during the night and releasing magical flames in an attempt to release some of her rage. The next day, she regretted her actions, if only because she was exhausted during her first day of travel. Some of the bigger wardens took pity on her and offered to carry her. At first, she resisted. She didn't want to seem weak and like a child. That attitude lasted only so much longer before she was enjoying rides on her much larger comrades.

It took another two days, but she gradually rose out of her depression. The other wardens, although they barely knew her, tried to help her out of it in their own ways, Duncan being the most committed. She appreciated it. Soon, she was fawning over each and every little discovery as she pushed her moodiness to the back of her mind. When Duncan invited her to come with him into the depths of Orzammar, she nearly leapt into his arms to give him the biggest hug ever. Which eventually led into their long trip into the mountain. Long only because she held everyone up with her seemingly-endless amount of questions.

Even now, she tried to stare at everything, every new dwarf she saw, every bit of the dwarven style of building, weapons, and armor. One dwarf caught her looking, stared at her staff for a moment before shrugging. Aellie was surprised to feel surprised about the staff staring. It was the last hint that she was a mage. Not long after leaving the Tower, she insisted that she wear something other than mage robes. Daylen argued against it. Even if she wasn't a part of the Circle, those robes still added a small, but significant boost to her powers, and a good warden was always prepared for combat, he said. She refused. All she wanted was to not wear something that blared out what she was. Although the wardens had treated her as one of their own, enough villages along the way had given her the uneasy stare to convince her that she was better off wearing something else. Duncan relented and now she looked no different from any commoner. Well, except for her snow-colored hair, and her blue tattoos on the right side of her face.

And for the first time ever, she discovered that elves weren't treated as equals in Ferelden. Almost everywhere they went, elves were the servants, the workers, and suffered prejudice. If there was one positive thing she could say about the Circle was that it mattered not what race you were. You were simply a mage. It was the only thing she missed so far. Well, that and Irving.  
>But, to her surprise, the staff wasn't a giveaway for what she was. No. Since horses were so rare in Ferelden, the average commoner walked everywhere. Which led to a huge market of walking sticks, oddly enough. Out of the dozens of fellow travelers she met, more than half of them carried a walking stick. In one little village, she actually saw a bragging contest over who had the best walking stick, with some of them reminding her of magical, intricate staves that she'd seen in old books in the Circle's library. Thus, after she hid her robes, scarcely another person concluded that she was a mage from sight alone.<p>

Back in the present, the crowd of dwarven fighters began to fidget and move with more energy. "Looks like the time is nearing for the Provings," Duncan guessed.

_Ah yes, this is going to be the first time I've ever seen anything like this,_She told herself again, the excitement increasing by another degree. Duncan told her that humans had fighting tournaments as well, but she'd never seen them of course.

And, of course, that's not why they were there. Duncan explained to her that Blights were when the darkspawn horde reached the surface and were organized by an Archdemon. But the dwarven kingdom was perpetually at war with the Darkspawn. And so, in a move to strengthen a possible alliance between humans and dwarves, Duncan was going to lead a contingent of Grey Wardens in a joint offensive with Orzammar. Although she didn't know if she was going to be in the fight herself, Aellie was confident that with Duncan by her side, she would survive. And to celebrate their arrival, the city was throwing the big tournament.

But there was another goal on Duncan's mind. Aellie quickly learned that the Grey Warden chapter master was desperately seeking more recruits. Which was difficult considering his high standard. He hoped that the Proving would provide another recruit at the very least.

Faren Brosca was frozen at the front entrance of the Proving hall. Before him was a crowd of dwarven fighters and champions, both men and women who had stepped into the ring at one point or another. He recognized a few: Seweryn, Roshen, and the Silent Sisters.

As he gazed across the assembly of warriors, one thought refused to stop haunting him. _I should be here. I should be one of them. If only I had been born in the Sword Caste._He felt his shoulder tugged and glanced at Leske. "Come on, we have work to do. And Bhelan wants it down soon."

Reluctantly, Faren detached himself from his dark thoughts and stepped down. He passed by a pillar that was carved into four shielded dwarves that faced outward. He was glancing at the monument in the center of the room, a simple stone spire, when his eyes caught something.

That's when he saw the pair: a dark-skinned human and a pale, white-haired elf. For a second time, he froze. It wasn't just because it was the first time he'd seen aliens. It wasn't the fact that the man was a giant to the dwarven men and women around him. No, it was a simple realization that struck him now. _Grey Wardens...I'm looking at real Grey Wardens._

"Stone's Embrace!" Leske muttered excitedly. "That's one of them. One of the Grey Wardens. " He nudged Faren in the ribs. "I dare you to go over to one of them and talk to one. Say, Welcome to Orzammar, Warden, ser. May I drink your bath water?'"

Faren chose to ignore the second half of the suggestion but not the first. Taking a deep breath and doing everything he could to not think about the growing number of stares, he strode up to the dark-skinned man. The giant noticed his approach and Faren waited for the condescending tone to come.

It never did.

"Stone-met and blessings on your house," The stranger greeted him, his voice respectful.

Faren, for a third time, froze. This course of action puzzled the stranger. "That was the proper greeting for an outsider last time I visited Orzammar. Has it changed? Or is there a reason you look at me so strangely?"

Even when he was asking questions, no harshness entered his voice. Only confused curiosity with that respect still in the foundations. Faren nearly answered him with a lie, saying that there was nothing wrong. But, Faren felt his honor asking him otherwise. And he knew now that lying was the last thing he wanted to do against this kind giant. "It was just... nicer than I expected."

Aellie was more than happy to remain silent as she watched her mentor and the black-haired dwarf converse.

"Do they say that the Grey Wardens are disrespectful, then?" The giant mused, not fully comprehending Faren's casteless nature. "My name is Duncan. I'd say 'Of the Grey Wardens' but I suspect that you already know that. Pleased to meet you."

"I'm Faren," The dwarf proudly declared. The pride soon shrunk. "Of...of nobody."

Aellie quirked an eyebrow at that title. "I'm Aellie, also of the Grey Wardens," She said quietly.

"Ah...of course," Duncan said as realization dawned on him. The elf beside him watched him expectantly for an explanation. "That's what the face-brand means, then. I remember that now."

Aellie was familiar with the Diamond Quarter..well, at least she walked through it. But even in the Diamond Quarter, every now and then she heard about the other quarters, and especially about Dust Town. Unable to keep her curiosity in anymore, she bursted out, "What does that all mean anyway? What's the difference between your caste and the others?"

Faren bit back a retort. She was a Grey Warden also and probably didn't know anything about the suffering and misery the caste system brought upon him. "It's a way of separating us," He grumbled, trying to be as polite as he can.

Aellie immediately looked chastened. As restrained as Faren's answer was, she caught the angry glint in his face to know she stepped on a nerve. Her curiosity was extinguished as she looked at the conflict on the dwarf's face, and thought she recognized something all-too familiar.

Although Duncan was being polite, Faren still felt dishonorable and loathed the tattoo on his face. The elf's staring eyes weren't helping either. He shuffled a step back. "I guess you want me to leave now," Faren predicted dejectedly.

"I never turn down the chance to meet someone new," Duncan corrected in a warm, friendly voice. "When we visit Orzammar, we tend to remain in the Diamond Quarter. You forget how much of the city you miss."

Embolden by the positive reaction he received, Faren went straight to the question that haunted him the most. "Is it true you are here looking for recruits?"

"The Wardens are always looking for those who have courage to spend their lives in battle against the Darkspawn. It's rare that we find those with both the skill and the will. The best Wardens are ruthless to their enemies, compassionate to their friends, and inspiring to their troops. It's a lot to look for," Duncan admitted. "But I hope to find it here."

One of the Proving officials strode up to Duncan, whispered something into his ear, while throwing a contemptuous glance at Faren. Duncan barely nodded before he turned back to Faren. "And I also hope you find what you are looking for."

Aellie bowed her head, a little lower than usual. "May fortune find its way to you."

As they were led to their seats, Duncan glanced down at Aellie. "It is alright."

"I could've done that better," She murmured back to him.

"You are young," Duncan calmly reminded her.

The platinum-haired elf scoffed. "That doesn't mean anything," She returned, throwing a glance over her shoulder toward the casteless dwarf.

"It simply means that unaware of what you were saying. We all have to start learning at some point. And not all first encounters are pleasant," Duncan replied rationally.

Aellie merely nodded, not wishing to hear anything else. The older Warden noticed this but chose not to press her.

Behind them, Faren was rejoining with Leske. The ponytail-wearing thug grinned as Faren walked up to him. "Can't believe you actually did that. What did they say? What were they like?"

Faren glanced over his shoulder once before he answered, "They were...the most honorable people I've ever met."

"Honorable, huh," Leske repeated as he eyed the Wardens as they left, the elf in particular. "Well, hoped you enjoyed it, because it's time to get back to work."

Faren sighed, again cursing his condition as he followed Leske into one of the branching tunnels. The hallway was lit by glowing crystals that were cut to look like they had grown straight out of the walls, but were made so they fit into the stone interior's design and decoration. Passing through another arch they were now in the fighter's quarters. The main area was attached by several doors that led into a fighter's prep room. Faren and Leske walked to the left, heading the first room which was reserved for Everd. The door was ajar which sent up a few bells.

What Faren saw next nearly threw him into a panic.

The warrior that was supposed to win, that held Faren's life in his ignorant hands, was lying on the floor. And by the smell that greeted them as they walked in and the number of empty ale bottles that littered the floor, the culprit was all too easy to figure out.

"Sod it," Leske muttered as he knelt down next to the incapacitated dwarf. "He's stone drunk! He could draw a **dead man** for his bout and still lose! Ach. Beraht's going to kill us if we slip up here. He's already jumpy enough after that stunt with Oskias- Hey, I just had an idea."

Faren could feel a fierceness growing within him, an excitement that was getting harder to suppress by the moment. Maybe the Ancestors did notice Brands. "I can put on his armor, and fight in his name," He declared with fervor.

Leske hopped onto his feet with a huge grin. "Hey, that's much better than my idea! I was going to say we should go up into the stands and start a rockslide but you're brilliant! You'll **be** Everd. You'll go out in his armor, keep the visor down, and fight in his name. He wins, Beraht wins, everybody wins. Except all the Warrior caste braggarts you leave kissing dust." They both shared a laugh, early looking forward to embarrassing the proud Sword caste. "I sodding **love** the way you think, my friend, I was afraid Beraht was going to kill us."

Faren turned to the room's only chest. "I'll put the armor on now. You find Mainar and drug him." A moment of shame was all Faren felt as he opened the chest. As much as he wanted to beat Mainar as honorable warriors, there was too much on the line for Faren to take that chance.

"Got it! It'll help if you can distract him though. Just, you know, talk to him so that I can sneak past him without him noticing. Let's do it quickly. We don't have much time," Leske reminded him.

Faren nodded as he reached for the breastplate. Only a minute passed before Faren called for Leske to help him. After years spent learning how to fight in light armor, armed with only knives, the warrior's heavy plate armor was something entirely new to Faren. The armor set covered every bit of skin with metal, his arms, his thighs, his face. Although time dwindled, Faren insisted on running a few laps around the room so that he could get used to the weight. The weapons differed too. Everd apparently believed in being flexible. There was a two-handed sword, an axe, a mace, and a shield. With these weapons, Everd could shift into any one of the three primary fighting styles. Despite entertaining the image of him defeating opponent after opponent with the huge sword, Faren stuck to his own two-handed style by grabbing the mace and axe. He nodded to Leske that he was ready. The two of them strode out, shutting the door behind them.

Mainar's room was, ironically, right across the room on the opposite side. Leske parted from Faren's side as the armor-wearing dwarf marched straight at Mainar himself, who was loitering outside of his room. The dwarf stroked his magnificent, brown beard as Faren approached. "Ready to concede already, Everd?" The veteran said was a nasty laugh. Faren no longer regretted his decision to drug the fighter.

"Ready to accept your concession," Faren barked back.

"You go on one Darkspawn raid and believe you can take on anything there is," Mainar sneered, never noticing Leske merely walking into his room. "You think, 'They're not so tough. Their skulls split when they taste steel.' But it's the taint you have to watch. That's what'll get you."

"Then how is it that you're still standing?" The question was half-sincere as Faren's curiosity got the better of him.

Mainar never noticed the sincerity or when Leske walked back out of his room. "You're trying to rattle me, but after what I've faced, both you and this Proving are small-scale."

From behind Faren came a shout. "Bout three is next. Officer Mainar versus the warrior Everd! Fighters, make final preparations then report to the ring."

"I'll see you in the ring," Mainar promised before he ducked into his room.

Faren walked away from him toward the door leading to the ring. Leske joined him. "I got him!" He whispered victoriously. "No more time! Make sure you have everything and tell the Proving guard that you're ready to fight. And don't forget to keep your helmet down!"


	4. Ch 4: Tradition

**Ch. 4: Tradition**

Aellie never expected to be given such preferential treatment. Even though she was one of the Circle's most talented apprentices, the Templars would always cast a suspicious and worried eye her way. But not here. Here Grey Wardens were treated very well. For all the odd looks her staff received, none of it was inherently hostile. And they were far outnumbered by the number of smiles and warm welcomes.

The elf was in the middle of receiving another one as she and Duncan were led to the noble's box, which was actually a rectangle but was still cordoned off by sitting several feet higher than the rest of the arena's stands, ensuring that commoners couldn't mix and mingle in here. Aellie was fine with that as she settled onto the stone bench on the other side of Duncan. The Grey Warden leader was granted the honored seat that sat in the middle of the noble's stand, watching the fights with an eagle's eye.

Her earlier moodiness forgotten as she curiously watched the Proving go on. Although the matches were non-lethal, that didn't stop blood flowing as the fights went on. From the excitement exhibited, she wondered if she seeing the fights would make it any less distasteful than it sounded. The idea that men and women willingly attacked each other for honor seemed bizarre to her. And it rubbed her wrong as a healer. Still, she wasn't a dwarf so she kept her thoughts to herself as she imagined how she would treat each injury inflicted.  
>As the announcement came for the next bout, she watched the arena's entrances expectantly.<p>

Faren felt a thrill fly through him like never before. He belonged here; this is what the Ancestors should have given him. All around him, hundreds of dwarves cheered as they watched him and Mainar walk into the arena from opposite sides. If only he could masquerade as Everd forever.

An old dwarf in fine clothing stood up in the royal box. In a powerful voice, the Proving Master began, "This is a Glory Proving, fought under the watchful eye of the Paragons of Orzammar for our honored guests, the Grey Wardens." He gestured to the two of them and more cheers erupted from the dwarven gathering. Aellie offered a weak wave of her hand to the crowds. Duncan smiled at the crowd and nodded to them. "The warrior Everd, son of Galtern will fight Officer Mainar, survivor of the battle of Kar Elerin!"

"Stone choose the... honor of...the heart... oh, sod it. Let's just fight," The older warrior gruffly declared.

As tempted as Faren was to match the gesture, he knew the Grey Wardens watched. Now if only he could remember what the actual phrase was. At least, it sounded like there was an official phrase. "Uh, for the honor of the... Grey Wardens." Faren had a powerful urge to bite his tongue as all the excitement ruined his declaration.

"First warrior to fall is vanquished. **Fight!**" The Proving Master roared.

Immediately, Faren drew the dagger and mace as Mainar began his advance. The Dwarven officer wasted no time as he brought his axe toward Faren. The disguised thug didn't know if it was the drug kicking in or the armor, but it felt like watching a lava flow, fiery but slow. He used his dagger to negate the attack before he slammed the mace into the warrior's chest.

Mainar fell back, surprised by the dagger's expert use then by the mace's follow-up. He clutched his shield closer before he tried again. Faren imagined himself sliding past the obvious attack. But then his armor nearly ruined, slowing him down to where Mainar's axe ringed off the edge of Faren's gauntlets. His dodge was slower than expected, but Faren still had and took the opportunity to spin around. His mace struck a blow to the back of Mainar's head. The warrior collapsed to the ground.

Instantly, there were roars of cheers and jeers as the fight ended. "The winner is Everd. A truly memorably fight. The young cadet vanquishes the wily veteran!" The old dwarf praised before he gestured to one side of the arena where a solitary dwarf waited. "Healer, see to his injuries."

Aellie almost stood up until she realized that he wasn't talking to her but another dwarf entering the ring. The woman nodded before she march in and pulled Mainar's body out of the arena.

As soon as the arena was cleared, the Proving Master continued. "The warrior Everd, son of Galtern, will fight last year's Journeyman Division champion Adalbo, proven in glory before the Stone."

The bald man took his place and bowed to Faren who returned the favor. "You honor me with this fight. May we both win glory in the eyes of our lords," Adalbo said solemnly.

"The honor is mine," Faren answered with deep sincerity.

After the Proving Master declared the fight begun, Adalbo drew his weapon: a huge dwarven axe that required both of his hands to wield. Moving with a practiced speed that surprised Faren, Adalbo was on top of the hidden Brand right as he finished drawing his own weapons. Instead of trying to cut him down, Adalbo thrusted the axe forward catching Faren in the stomach with the blunt end of the axe.

Faren backpedaled as he tried to adapt to Adalbo's speed. Despite slowly adapting to Everd's armor, Faren received another strike as the bald warrior quickly caught up and swiped at him. The mace prevented a serious strike from happening, but Faren's right arm was rattled by the attack.

He tried to force Adalbo back as his dagger's arm lashed out. Adalbo grunted as the tip of the dagger found a piece of the armor to slide through and cut into him, but the veteran slammed the two-handed weapon's pommel into Faren's chest. Faren saw it and angled his body so that the pommel bounced off before he attacked with both of his weapons.

Adalbo couldn't defend against the two, only stopping the dagger's strike while the mace crashed against his arm. Now he tried to fall back as his grip weakened. Faren would not have any of that. He rushed forward, throwing up a frenzy of quick strikes. Adalbo whittled away as he couldn't stop all of them and his defenses cracked further. Finally Faren wound his mace arm back before swung hard. Adaldbo fell to the floor as the blunt weapon struck him in the chest.

"The winner is Everd! The ancestors have withdrawn their blessings, and embrace a new champion on their field," The Proving Master declared before summoning the healer.

With the lull, Aellie couldn't help but find the idea a little odd. _Isn't it just skill that determines these things? I don't see how the Ancestors care either way who wins or loses._

The mage's inner questions were silenced as the elder dwarf began anew. "The warrior Everd, son of Galten, will fight Lenka, Silent Sister-in-training. She has made her vows, but not completed her blooding. Will she be accepted into the legendary order? That will depend on her performance today..." The Proving Master shouted as a young, beautiful brunette dwarf walked into the arena, which caught Aellie by surprised. She had yet to see a female warrior, even among the Grey Wardens.

The Silent Sister-hopeful bowed to Faren, not offering a single word.

"You honor me with this fight. May we both achieve glory," Faren replied. Any warrior who went to such lengths to combat the Darkspawn had his respect.

The female warrior drew a sword and a dagger, which meant that Brosca was facing against his own style. Worse, she wore a set of light scale armor, which enhanced her speed. She quickly proved this as she rushed Faren, weapons out and attacking.

It was only because of his recent experience with his new armor that Faren blocked most of her attacks. The two attacks to get through were weak enough that they simply bounced off his heavier armor.

He countered with his own mace and dagger, trying to feint her with his dagger. She barely noticed it in time, her own sword slowing his mace enough that it didn't knock her out. She was off step as the attack hit her side. She nimbly side-stepped, aiming for his flank and trying to get out of his limited vision.

Faren knew better than to lose sight of his opponent. His feet slid as he turned his body, keeping in her sight and trying to strike another blow. She could not hide from his eyes, but he couldn't move fast enough to hit her. She dodged them all while she continued to circle him.

As sweat trickled down his face, Faren knew he couldn't maintain this fight for much longer at this rate. He decided to do something unorthodox. With a flick of his wrist, the dagger flew and hit where she was moving to. It had the desired effect as she paused her dance.

The thug threw himself at her, using his armor as a battering ram. She tried to get her sword up in time to end his attack but was too late. He crashed both of them into the floor where his weight kept her trapped on the floor at his mercy. "Yield."

Lenka shook her head as she tried to use her sword's pommel to bash at his head. The helmet proved its worth as Faren was barely rattled. He respected her tenacity and rewarded it by using his gloved hand to knock her out. He climbed off the unconscious woman and looked expectantly at the Proving Master, hoping he hadn't ruined Lenka's chances at becoming a Silent Sister.

"The winner is Everd! Lenka went to the stone without a sound, as befits her vows, but it wasn't hard to see the blood that was spilled."

Within the helm, Faren smiled. He wished Lenka well in her adoption into the female order.

"Everd will advance to the final bout to determine the true champion of the ring against -"

"Wha-?"

All heads turned to the new body walking onto the arena floor. A moment of horror struck Faren before he was roaring with fury in his mind. _No. NO! Not now, not with my glory so close in hand!_

The drunken Everd remained ignorant as he stumbled forward toward the center. "Is my bout a'ready?" He finally noticed Faren and pointed an accusing finger at him. "Hey! That's my armor!" Faren felt a powerful urge to cut that finger off and silence the warrior before it was too late. But it was a fruitless thought.

"Who are you?" The Proving Master demanded, almost as furious as Faren. "How dare you disrupt this sacred-"

The Proving Master was interrupted a second time when Mainar spoke up. "Wait! I know that man. That's Everd! Then...what imposter did I fight?"

Aellie and Duncan watched in silence, one thoughtful, the other extremely curious by the turn of events.

"Remove your helmet," The Proving Master commanded, his gaze locked on Faren. "And let all who watched you see your face."

"I will not," Faren shouted defiantly. "My victory has earned your respect."

"Your skills are impressive," The Proving Master admitted. "But you are one man. Show yourself, lest I call the guards and have them do it for you!"

Faren's fists shook as he squeezed them in silent rage. After a moment, he answered, "I am of no caste or clan, but I have defeated you all!"

The entire cave went silent. Then a larger uproar followed. Silently, Duncan stood, scratching his beard as he peered at the Brand. Aellie stood as well, sliding next to Duncan. "It's him," She murmured.

"Casteless!" The Proving Master seethed as he summoned the guards. "You insult the very nature of this Proving!"

They were all around him now. Armed with shields and swords, Faren was encircled with no escape. His Brand demanded that he submit without a struggle, but he would have none of it.

"Guards, take this... filthy away." The old dwarf averted his sight as he moved to one side of the box, next to one of the one of the large, flaming braziers.

"Hold your men, I pray you," Duncan requested as he walked up to the Proving Master, Aellie silently following. "This warrior has defeated the best you have to offer. Is that not what this Proving for?"

The guards and Faren turned to stare at the chocolate-skinned man. Faren could feel hope trying to wiggle in, but he dare not give it passage.

The grey-haired dwarf addressed him diplomatically. "We are honored by your presence, Warden, but this Proving is not solely for you. There are laws which have governed this arena for a thousand years. This man is no warrior!" He said spitefully, almost spitting at Faren. "He is casteless, rejected by the ancestors. His very footsteps pollute the Stone. He has no place here."

"Except as your champion," Duncan quietly pointed out. But that was the extent of his resistance as he exited the box.

"It's not right," Aellie whispered to him as she walked behind the Grey Warden commander. A frown was her only answer.

Faren didn't know whether or not to be glad that he didn't allow hope in. One thing was for certain. He would not go quietly. One guard in his metal skull-cap was too eager and stepped forward, ahead of his comrades. Faren rewarded him by slamming his mace against the guard's forehead. The guard summarily collapsed. Another two rushed forward toward his blind side. Even with the heavy armor slowing him down, he parried the two attacks. Waving his dagger at one, he battered at the second one's shield until the dwarf's arm could take it no more. With the crack in the defense, Faren shoved the mace into the guardsman's face, removing him from the fight.

The thug grunted when another sword and shield pulverized him from behind. Only the flat of the blade was used, their mission was to capture, not kill, him. In response, Faren tried to become a whirlwind that managed to pause their assault as he sliced and swung every which way. For all of his defiance of his will, his body couldn't match it. After three bouts and this last melee, Brosca was exhausted. Sweat coated his entire body and his muscles ached from over-use. All it took was one good shield blow at the back of his knee, and he was no longer standing. He vented the rest of his frustration into one last howl of vehemence. Then a sword's pommel cracked against the back of his head, and he was silenced.


	5. Ch 5: Escape

**Ch. 5: Escape**

With a groan, Faren Brosca stumbled back toward consciousness. He still ached everywhere, not to mention the throbbing sore on the back of his head. As he opened his eyes, he saw that his situation hadn't improved. He'd been laying on stone, which while that wasn't any different from his home, it hadn't done the bump on his head any wonders. The iron bars were a much worse sight as he picked himself off the floor. They criss-crossed over one side of the cell.

"Are you awake yet?" came the loud whisper from outside of those bars. "Psst. Can you hear me?"

_Leske_, Faren realized as he pressed himself against the bars, spotting his cell adjacent to the same wall's corner that Faren's cell sat next to.

The ponytailed-dwarf sat on the floor as he looked at Faren. "How sodding hard did they hit you, anyway? Did you have to put up such a fight?" Leske stood and walked over to the edge of his cell.

"How did you get here?"

"As soon as everyone saw your face-brand, the place went mad. Shut all the doors, examined everyone for family and caste. One of the guards recognized me and figured we must be working together. They burned three candles to the stump interrogating me about who put you up to this. I think they knew, you know, about Beraht."

Faren scoweld. Any pleasure that he could derive from his furious last stand evaporated. The situation was far worse now. "Beraht said he'd go straight for Rica if we're caught. We need to go."

"You think I didn't look for a way out?" Leske whispered back. "Rica's not the only one in danger here. They could kill us! But these cells are built straight into the wall, and they confiscated all of my lockpicks. What's it look like on your side? You see any way out?"

"Good, you're awake," a third voice interrupted. Both thugs shifted their gazes and then both grimaced. "Beraht will be glad to hear that."

"Jarvia," Faren glumly addressed her. "What are you doing here?"

"You caused a lot of trouble today," she sneered as she pointed an accusing finger at Faren. "Beraht lost a hundred sovereigns for Lord Vollney. The entire Proving was declared invalid, and the Assembly already called for an investigation. You can't imagine the state Beraht was in he told me to get you."

Faren had a good idea of what that state was. He needed more information, anything that could give him a clue to get out of here and back to Rica. "Where are we?"

Jarvia put on a sick smile. "That's right, you've never had the privilege of being down here. You're in one of the deep cells in Beraht's estate. He built it into the ruins of old Orzammar. Plenty of room to store gold and lyrium. And nice thick walls so no one can hear the screams."

"But how did we get here," Faren persisted.

"I brought you," she answered bluntly. "You've got every guardsman at that Proving thinking if he takes your head off, the ancestors will bless him forever. But they know whose hand holds the whip. When Beraht claimed you, they knew who's going to get to watch your last breath."

Faren scowled, bereft of what he really needed to know. And he didn't want to put up with this a moment longer. "Let him come. He'll see I don't scare easily."

Jarvia crossed her arms with a nasty grin. "I don't think scaring you is what Beraht has in mind. You risked exposing him before the entire Warrior caste. Now they're asking questions, and as long as you have a tongues to answer them, you're a threat. Enjoy your last night together boys." Faren and Leske shared a glance. No happy feelings here. "Beraht'll be by soon to make sure you maintain your silence." And with that last tidbit, she walked away.

Leske emitted a stream of curses to himself, while Faren returned to the task at hand. A guard came to replace Jarvia, so he didn't have the luxury of operating without supervision. But perhaps he could turn that into an advantage. The former thug began rattling his fingers on the metal bars.

The guard scowled and walked over to him. "Hey! Leave off with your noise," he warned in a low and lazy drawl. "You're giving me a headache."

"The bar on this door is broken. Could you check it out?" Faren asked casually.

"Where?" The guard asked as he leaned closer, eyes squinting at the bars. "I don't see nothing wrong." Moving with a silent deftness honed over years of practice, Faren's hand slid into the bald dwarf's pockets and returned quickly. "Oh, you're probably just upset. I remember one time when Mistress Jarvia was mad at me. She didn't lock me up, but she yelled a lot. And she hit me on the head. But it was real nice of her not to kill me," the dwarf rambled before he stepped away.

With the guard's back facing him, Faren moved as lightning. The stolen key unlocked his door. The bald guard turned around as he heard the door swing open. With a quiet growl, Faren lunged and slammed his fist into the guard's nose. The guard fumbled back onto his seat, one hand clutching at his broken nose. Releasing some of his fury, Faren rained blows onto the hapless guard until he was unconscious. After wiping some of the blood off of his hands, the plain-looking dwarf unlocked Leske's cell.

"If we want to live through this, we can't leave one man alive to tell Beraht what we've done." Leske advised while he stepped out of his cell.

"Not one of them," Faren agreed. He no longer cared about holding back. He doubted he'd survive the morrow. But, by the Ancestors, he'd leave a story for Orzammar to speak of for centuries.

In a chest near the cells, they found all of their things. Moving quickly but silently, they dressed in armor. Faren didn't know whether to feel relieved or not that he was once again wearing his light armor. He was going to miss Everd's heavy armor's protection though most certainly not its weight. He used the guard's short axe for his main weapon and a grey iron dagger, a small improvement over his own iron daggers. He tested it out on the knocked-out guard, stabbing it into the man's heart for a quick death. It was the least he could do after the guard politely offered the key to their escape.

No longer weak and exposed, the pair quickly exited the dungeon, entering into a long, tall but thin stony passageway. Apparently, Beraht hadn't bothered to carve the cave system with any sense of architecture with the exception of the monolithic torches and the various rooms. And, as they reached the first fork, Faren realized a terrible truth. He had no idea where to go. Hoping his instincts were as sharp as ever, he continued straight, ignoring the right turn.

The door they found was thankfully unlocked. As he quietly opened it, Faren immediately caught sight of a trap. The leghold's teeth were barely hidden. Only a fool would have stepped into it. With the aid of his nimble fingers, Faren disarmed it. The clatter it made as it snapped shut alerted the room's inhabitants.

A long pile of cases and boxes went from one wall to a central pillar. As the first of the criminals walked around the pillar, an axe tore into his neck. The other two froze, caught off-guard by the severity of their situation. It was all Faren and Leske needed to end their lives with their daggers. As one of the dwarves fell to the ground, Faren slipped off his iron ring before he and Leske walked speedily to the next door.

The room connected to a hallway that zigzagged toward the exit. In the center as another two cronies, both unaware of the danger. Walking casually, Faren and Leske approached them.

"Hey, is that blood?" One of them said as the distance shrunk.

"What, this?" Leske said as he ran a finger over the new stain. "...yes."

That was the only warning given before Beraht lost another two minions, and one of them lost his purse to the victors. The hallway ended in a mirroring storage room. Three more thugs dawdled as they watched over their master's stores. After maneuvering around the impromptu walls of cargo, the first fell when a dagger pierced his heart. His two companions blindly rushed at their attacker. Faren swung his axe and dagger in a wide arc as he slid between them. Clutching their sides and their chests, the other two screamed in agony. Screams prematurely ended by Leske's knife.

Faren was tempted to pick up a mace to replace his dagger, but he gave it up after a moment. This storage room possessed a door which opened into another cave hallway, lit up by glowing crystals embedded in the uncarved walls. Faren and Leske jogged to the next door.

To Faren's ire, it was yet another store room. _How large of a mansion does Beraht have? _He wondered, frustrated by the lack of an exit. Another small group of thugs loitered around in the room's center, partially surrounded by more of Beraht's vast inventory. Faren quietly walked down the few steps...only to be knocked back by a small explosion.

"Trap!" Leske pointlessly yelled.

The thugs now ran toward the door as Faren struggled to his feet, putting out small fires in his hair and some places on his armor. But as he counter-charged the charging minions, he realized that the explosion had more bark than bite. As the four opponents fanned out to overwhelm him, Brosca swung both of his weapons in a large arc. The hapless minions couldn't break off from their run and were maimed or killed in the attack. Leske finished off the survivors while Faren grabbed a few poultices to cover his burn wounds. A cool, soothing replaced by the painful burning. After a short break, interrupted by two more fools who tried to kill them only to receive their own comeuppance, they went onward.

The next door led into another hallway, but this time, instead of the usual natural cave, chiseled and painted stone declared this hallway to be completely dwarven made. The hallway had two doors in the middle and one at the end. The left door was hopelessly locked. The other was ajar. While Faren wanted to hurry through the last door at the end, he didn't want to take the chance of an ambush. He and Leske explored the open door, but only found a chest at the end of a cave pathway.

Since they had come this way, Faren let his fingers worked and was happy to discover that this lock was much simpler. But the only thing he found inside was a pair of armored gloves. He handed them to Leske. "We might be able to sell these later for some quick coppers that we might need." _On the small chance that we live through this._

Leske nodded, and they left the empty chest behind. Carefully, they approached the last door. Inside was a room much larger than the previous ones. It wasn't another store room, but it was so bare that Faren didn't know what it was used for. One thing was clear. Beraht was standing between two pillars, speaking with two other henchmen.

"I'm cutting the whore free," the crime boss was explaining. "If that turncoat brother of hers doesn't know his place, I don't need precious Rica, either."

"Rica?" the red-headed thug repeated with a lewd grin. "That the one you got done in lace? I been wanting to get my hands on that."

"Heh, I know what you mean," the second thug agreed.

"She's yours if you want her, boys," Beraht declared with a smirk. "And let me tell you... it tastes as good as it looks."

Rational thought was subsequently thrown out of Faren's mind as he roared, "BERAHT!"

All three criminals immediately snapped toward the escaped prisoner's direction. "What in sod-all is all **that **doing out of its cage?" Beraht muttered contemptuously, bloodlust in his eyes. "Let's teach this little duster a lesson."

Faren replied by throwing his dagger.

Unfortunately, his rage threw it off and instead of it hitting Beraht, it lodged itself in the red-head's forehead. That caused the other thug to pause, but Beraht lumbered toward Faren in his heavy armor. That was good enough for Faren as he left the other thug to Leske.

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, Faren knew that Beraht was still a member of the warrior class. The large round shield and short axe evidenced that. He could be very well a dangerous opponent. But fantasies of Beraht's death danced at the forefront of his mind. And, as he lifted his mace to begin his assault, he swore to turn them into reality.

The clash of iron echoed throughout the spacious room as Faren slammed his mace against Beraht's shield in rapid succession. The Cartel leader merely held his position, waiting for an opportunity. It became a contest to see which arm would wear out first: Faren's or Beraht's. After a full twenty seconds of trying to break though, Faren stepped back when Beraht tried to axe him the moment his frenzied onslaught slowed to a crawl.

Faren gritted his teeth as he dodged the counter strikes, one of them lightly cutting across his thigh. His fantasies were threatening to leave when he noticed that Beraht wasn't holding his shield up. He sent an experimental strike that way. Instead of lifting and resuming his defense, Beraht shifted to bounce the mace off of his shoulder pad.

_Did I break it? _As happy as that thought might have made him, Faren was acutely aware that he wore out his right arm as well. He doubt he could put any significant force behind it. Beraht was aware of it too as he continued to focus on Faren's right side. The crime boss continued to push him around the room while Faren danced around the blows. If Faren was right-handed, he'd fear that the fight was against him.

Of course, he wasn't. He was ambidex- some fancy word that meant he could both hands easily. Faren 'retreated' back toward the stone pillars. And, as he dodged another blow, sliding around, his right hand lazily tossed the mace into the air.

Beraht followed him in his mind and readied to slash at him when he moved away from the pillar on the other side. Instead, Faren grabbed the pillar with his now-empty right hand and pulled himself out of his maneuver to slide back the way he came. His left hand snatched the floating mace.

Beraht only had two seconds to see what was happening... before his right eye was crushed between his skull and the mace's head.

The crime lord stumbled back, half-blind, his defense non-existent. Faren wore a cruel grin as he advanced on his former employer.


	6. Ch 6: Freedom

**Ch. 6: Freedom**

Faren casually pulled his dagger free from the thug's head, cleaning it on the corpse's skin. Behind him, Leske was ecstatic. "Did you see him there, all 'When we're done with you?' And you just charged in and sodding slaughtered him! You have to be the luckiest Duster in Orzammar. Beraht's dead and we're standing here! Hail to the sodding king!"

Faren glanced behind him at what was left of Beraht. "I was hoping he'd have time to beg for mercy."

"Oh, he was begging alright," Leske clarified. "That look of utter surprise on his face when he tasted his blood. That was as close to begging as Beraht gets."

_That'll have to do, I suppose._ Faren thought to himself as he scanned the vast empty room. He felt a pang of wanting. Beraht was dead. Who could stop him from taking over? After a moment, the quiet but firm answer came from the back of his head. _The guards. They still want my head. I need to leave Orzammar. _"Let's get out of here before anyone investigates."

"You said it," Leske whole-heartedly agreed. "Fortunately, if Beraht's got them trained like he says, it should be a good long time before any guardsmen show up here."

That bit of advice slowed Faren down. _If we have time... _He knelt down by the dead thug and rummaged through his pockets. Leske caught on and started on the other guard. The two spent a half an hour, looting whatever they could find before they made good on their escape. The passageway out led them back into Beraht's shop via a secret entrance.

Faren greedily eyed the wares until he heard a shopkeeper ask what they were doing here. _Figures Beraht would have someone to man the store for him. _Faren put on a smile to try to reassure the merchant.

The shopkeeper took one look at the blood all over Faren's armor and started to panick. "Ancestors protect me!"

The ex-thugs immediately took that as their cue to leave. The blood couldn't be wiped off in time, but Dust Town was not too far from Beraht's store. With luck, they could simply run into Dust Town, lose any curious guards in the slums, change their clothes, and escape Orzammar.

Faren's grand plan of escape lasted three steps outside the shop. Someone shouted, "There they are! Seize the fugitives!"

Half a dozen guards formed a half-circle around Faren, all better armed and not worn out by constant fighting. Faren glanced behind him at the shop, but that was futile. The few locked doors Leske couldn't open ensured that there was not an alternate exit through Beraht's lair. "Drop your weapons and walk down slowly. We will use force if you resist."

Faren recognized that golden and expensive tunic and that elderly voice. "Damned Proving Master," he muttered to himself. Behind the ring of guards approached three figures, two Faren immediately recognized. _What are the Grey Wardens doing here? Wait, who's that with Master Duncan? _Shock slammed into Faren when he recognized the dwarf woman next to the giant: Rica. What was going on? "What are all of you doing here?"

The Grey Warden was the first to speak, to Faren's suprise. "Your escape from Orzammar's prision had the guards baffled, it seems."

"Until one of them recognized that your friend as Beraht's man," the elderly dwarf filled in. "Regardless, the penalty for impersonating a higher caste is death."

"If Beraht is as influential as you say, perhaps he also masterminded this Everd's impersonation," Duncan offered as an alternative explanation.

And with that, Faren thought he saw a chance. _Blame it all on Beraht. _"Beraht won't be a problem anymore."

"He's dead?" the Proving Master repeated, half-stunned. "Beraht had many enemies, but also powerful allies. They-"

"Beraht would have butchered us if he hadn't killed him first!" Leske retorted.

The Grey Warden leader seemed pleased by that explanation. "Your friend has once again demonstrated his courage. We Grey Wardens travel far and wide in search of those with the potential to join our ranks. It seems I have found one."

Faren squinted at the black giant. _My ears are failing me. I could've sworn that the master Grey Warden just said something about joining him. _Faren glanced at Leske for some sort of reassurance...and saw that his friend's jaw was hanging wide open. Shock prevailed upon Faren as the words echoed in his memory. Numbly, he faced the Grey Warden commander. "Are...are you asking me to become a Grey Warden?"

"Let me make my offer formal," Duncan offered. "I, Duncan of the Grey Wardens, extend the invitation for you to join our order."

The Proving Master, a part of Faren's dazzled mind wondered if he ever heard his name, scoffed. "This man is a criminal. You can't do this!"

"I can and I am," Duncan rebuked, which brought a small smile to Aellie's lips. "It would mean traveling to the surface lands and thus leaving your people, but it does offer you the chance to strike a blow against the darkspawn and the Blight."

Faren did **not **need to hear it twice. "Then sodding yes, let's get out of here now!"

"Then before these witnesses, I hereby recruit you into the Grey Wardens. Know that you are most welcome," Duncan declared to the entire crowd of dwarves and the one elf.

"This is highly irregular. The warrior families will be... most upset," the Proving Master mumbled, half to himself.

"Look at you, you duster!" Leske almost shouted with the biggest grin on hi face. "A Warden! And to think I knew you when you were stealing bread!"

"Before we brave the Deep Roads, I would like to make you a gift of this mace, since you have so few possessions of your own," Duncan said as he pulled a mace off of his shoulder. Faren could see that two seals had been engraved on the pommel, side-by-side. It looked old, but it was an excellent shape. "It was once wielded by the Warden Foral Aeducan. I believe he was related to your king. I know you will continue his proud example."

Faren accepted the mace with the most awe he had ever felt. He felt like he could destroy two Darkspawn armies at the moment.

"And now, I will give you a chance to say your good-byes before Aellerain will lead you to the surface," Duncan explained as he glanced at his elf companion. "There you will rest and learn with Daylen while I conclude our business here."

Still in a daze, Faren could only nod, hearing only half of it.

Aellie wasn't completely happy with the news. She leaned upward and whispered, "Does this mean I won't be going on the expedition?"

"You will have plenty of opportunities to slay Darkspawn," Duncan quietly replied. "I want you to help Faren adjust to the surface. It can be a terrifying place for dwarves."

Aellie had no idea what Duncan was referring to. She doubt he'd send her and the new recruit anywhere besides the Grey Warden's surface camp, and that was so close to Orzammar's entrance that there was little worry of bandits or beasts attacking. "What about the royal party tomorrow, can I be here for that at least?"

Duncan paused before he nodded his acquiescence.

Faren was finishing his good-bye to Leske before he approached Rica. His elation was mixed with a little guilt for not even thinking of his sister in all of this. "How are you sister?"

She smiled brilliantly at him. "I couldn't believe it when Ser Duncan said he wanted to recruit you. I was ready to kill you when I heard what you did at the Proving - but it worked out for the best."

"Yes, it did," Faren wholeheartedly agreed. "Will you be alright with just you and mother?"

Her smile didn't lose any of its strength. "I think, for the first time, that mother and I will be just fine. I spent the afternoon with my new patron. If everything works out... maybe I can greet you as an equal."

Faren felt mixed feelings scour his insides. Grey Wardens were considered equal to the nobility in Orzammar. That meant Rica was honestly hoping that her noble patron might actually marry her. Faren's skepticism pushed at him, but he pushed it back as he smiled at her. "This is the man you spoke of earlier?"

"Yes. He calls me his amber rose. Isn't that sweet? He has a voice like a poet," Rica explained dreamily. "He has already promised to move Mother and me into better lodgings, where he can find me more quickly when he wants me."

_And far away from Leske, _Faren hoped. Leske may have been his best friend, but he didn't trust him with his sister just like a nug-owner would distrust a hungry deepstalker. "And you'll be happy like this?"

"I am," she assured him. "Truly, I could never make a life fighting darkspawn. But if I can bear a son who makes his house proud, that's all I can ask. Go little brother. Make the world a better place."

Faren nodded before he hugged her, silently wondering if he'd ever see her again. He finally turned to the white-hared elf, gesturing that he was done. Aellie glanced at Duncan. The veteran Grey Warden nodded before he started dealing with the distinctly unhappy Proving Master. "Faren, correct?"

_She remembered my name, _Faren thought happily. "Yes, mistress Surana."

She blinked causing the blue tattoo on her face to ripple. "Please, just call me Aellie," she suggested friendly-like. "We're both new recruits after all."

"Very well, Aellie," Faren said, still with a tone of deference.

The elf figured she'd have to just deal with it now, while the black-haired dwarf adjusted to his new position. "Okay, let's head up to the surface. I'll introduce you to Daylen."

Faren nodded and the pair walked away from the small crowd. _Such huge doors, _Faren thought to himself as they approached Orzammar's inner gate. He'd only been able to glance at them twice before, one of them yesterday when he was on his way to the Proving. Neither time did it last long. Now, he could feel his heart beat as they walked to the massive stone doors. He remember simply wanting to escape Dust Town, and now here he was, about to leave Orzammar herself.

Aellie, for her part, tried to remain silent as she fulfilled her escort duty. She was sure that the new recruit didn't want to hear a hundred questions on what it was like in Dust Town, to be a Casteless, or talk about his family. She fidgeted as they walked through the doors, the guards glaring at Faren, who never noticed them.

The two guards managed to stop their glaring long enough to open the doors for Aellie, the power of her Grey Warden reputation setting in. Faren braced himself for his first view of the surface world...only to see another hall between him and another large set of doors. He kept his reaction to himself while he and his companion walked forward. Scatterings of dwarves mingled around in there, surface merchants saying good-byes before they left Orzammar, other travelers returning to the dwarven city. In the center of the room was a stone statue of a paragon. Faren didn't recognize him or care.

Once again, Aellie couldn't help but feel a pang of weirdness as she studied the statue. Granted, the only statues she saw were in the Tower, but she doubted that any other statue in Ferelden was as blocky as dwarven statues.

Faren tried to take a quiet deep breath as they reached the next set of doors. Then he paused. "Is this the surface past these _these _doors?"

Aellie nodded. "Yep. I think its...noon...afternoon, maybe?" _How long have I been here?_

The guards nodded respectfully to Aellie before they opened the doors for them. Faren's hands immediately jumped to his eyes as a bright light blasted against them. "What is that!" he asked, half-panicked.

The elf squinted as she waited for her eyes to adjust. "It's the sun." With a jolt, she realized that Faren must never have seen it. _What a strange way to live to never even see the sun. _Then she realized something else too. Until she left the Tower, she'd never actually seen the sun since she was a small child. All the Tower's windows were stained and too high off the ground to offer a clear view of the outside world.

Surana's musings ended when she could finally see again. She saw that it was afternoon, late in fact. The sun was already starting to touch the horizon. She looked down at her dwarven companion and waited for him to adjust. "...Faren, you need to pull your hands away or your eyes won't get used to light."

Faren knew that she was giving good advice, but it was still advice that he had trouble following. His resolve strengthened when he heard the nearby guards openly chuckling about his predicament. Slowly, he peeled his hands away from his face. Even then, it was so much brighter than he expected and it took another minute before he tried opening his eyes.

The moment his eyes were completely opened, he collapsed. Aellie instantly crouched down over him, trying to figure out just what happened. "Faren? Faren! Are you alright?"

The black-haired dwarf mumbled something unintelligible which didn't help.

Aellie thought about casting a healing spell, but he was obviously not suffering from a physical injury. "What's wrong?"

"Milady, it's his first time on the surface," one of the guards finally explained with a pitiless grin.

The explanation didn't clear up her confusion. "...and?"

"It's the sky, milady. He's probably afraid of falling into it."

Aellie struggled mightily to understand that view. She would've scoffed at it, except Faren was still curled up at her feet. "But, it's just the sky."

"It happens to most dwarves, milady. Although, rare is it to see such a strong reaction. I wonder if his mind has been addled by the experience," the guard mused.

_How am I supposed to explain __**that**__ to Duncan. I apologize ser Duncan, but Faren saw the sky and his mind is no longer with us. _Despite her latest issue, she refused to let it get to her. "I need someone to help me bring him to the Warden camp. It's only just down the path."

All four guards, both inside and outside the gate, were suddenly reluctant to help her, glancing at Faren with contempt. One of them finally stepped forward. "I will, milady."

It was a good thing he did so, for Aellie's rage was stirring with the pause. _Is this how they treat their own? Is this what it means to be Casteless?_ "Thank you, this way, please." She waited for the guard to heft Faren off his feet before she led him away from Orzammar.

...to be continued in The Princess


End file.
